


Scarves and Leaves

by FandomN00b



Series: Gifts and Prompts [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, as much as I can cram into 825ish words, fluffy fall prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomN00b/pseuds/FandomN00b
Summary: Alistair returns to Skyhold with some gifts for Morrigan and Kieran.
Relationships: Alistair & Morrigan (Dragon Age)
Series: Gifts and Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636435
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Scarves and Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a [threefold fluffy fall prompt from funkypoacher on tumblr](https://fandomn00blr.tumblr.com/post/628258445848707072/okay-so-for-morristair-gimme-12-15-and-21)!
> 
> This sort of fits somewhere in the next couple chapters of my Morristair suuuuuper slooooooowburn (smash and smolder?) fic, [Kieran](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300158/chapters/50721767)...(I'm so creative with my titles, huh?)

“Oh? For Kieran…? Let me just summon him…”

Alistair stood there, his hand outstretched with the scarf wadded up in his fist, looking like he’d just been kicked, while Morrigan turned and searched the courtyard for their son, apparently oblivious to his intentions.

“Actually, I made him his own…” Alistair grimaced, his cheeks turning an even brighter shade of pink than they already were from the bitter cold wind he’d been riding against most of the way back up the Frostbacks. “Because... well, it’s colder up here than in Orlais, so I just thought, the two of you might…need...um...”

Morrigan turned back around to look at him with a skeptical frown that he tried not to read too much into. He had come to realize this was more of a habit than any true indication of her feelings about any given matter in particular.

“Oh.” She reached her hand out for the scarf, and her face softened a little when he released it to her. “Thank you.”

As she carefully unraveled it and began inspecting the rich, vibrant burgundies he’d chosen to match her preferred color scheme, her own cheeks began to darken a little to match. “ _‘Tis_ rather thoughtful, I suppose…”

She cautiously dug her fingertips into the thick, loosely-knitted wool. Soft and warm and cozy...not her usual aesthetic, but practical, at least. She began wrapping it around her neck, but stopped when she caught Alistair staring at her. “What?”

“Nothing! You don’t need to wear it if you don’t like it. It was just something to do...to keep my hands busy, and to keep my mind off of the, uhh…”

“Why are you both blushing?” Kieran asked. He had come running from the garden when he noticed Alistair had returned.

“Because it is cold,” Morrigan snapped.

“Is that why you’re wearing that... _thing_...around your neck?”

“It is called a scarf, and Alistair has knitted one for you, as well...”

She turned and looked expectantly at him while he stood there, blinking back at her for a moment, still half in disbelief that she had actually deigned to put it on in front of him.

“Er, yes…” He squatted down, rummaging around in his pack for the dark blue scarf he’d knitted for Kieran. “If you don’t like the color…”

Kieran’s eyes lit up at the sight of the thing. “It matches Auntie Solona’s Warden armor!” He grabbed for it with greedy hands and immediately wrapped it around himself, burying his face in it.

“Perhaps you should make one for her as well,” Morrigan mused, her eyes twinkling.

“Yes. Well...I don’t suppose I’ll need to keep finding excuses to knit hideous gifts for people to distract myself from the false Calling, now that we know it was Corypheus...”

“It would be a pity for you to give it up. You seem rather good at it.”

“It feels just like one of your hugs!” Kieran exclaimed. “And it _smells_ like you, too!”

Morrigan looked startled by this revelation, or perhaps it was just the cold wind that suddenly blew past them through the courtyard, wafting Alistair’s scent from the scarf to her nose as if the weather wished for her to confirm it for herself while she appreciated the warmth of the scarf insulating her against it. She couldn’t help but breathe it in, filling her lungs with the familiar scent, though she couldn’t have told anyone what Alistair smelled like until this very moment: an all-too-comforting mix of campfire, rosemary, fennec fur, and leather.

The same traitorous breeze managed to shake several leaves loose from the birch tree overhead, and they drifted down upon them as if to further drive home the shifting sentiments between them, like the change in seasons, the coolness somehow drawing them closer together as they gingerly sought these brief glimpses of warmth in each other.

Without thinking, Alistair reached a hand up to pull one of the golden leaves out of Morrigan’s hair, where it had landed without her knowledge or permission. She whipped her head to the side and glared at him, breaking the trance the wind had put her in. He held the leaf up to her in defense, but it didn’t seem to do much to mitigate her indignation.

“That leaf is the same color as your eyes.” Kieran beamed up at them, redirecting some of her attention onto himself. “Can Alistair join us for dinner tonight?”

Alistair and Kieran both looked pleadingly to her for an answer now, the family resemblance between them unmistakable.

“Yes. _Fine_ …” she huffed. “But he will need to wash up first.”

Kieran grinned at Alistair. “The communal baths are absolutely _frigid_ here…” he laughed.

“And so will you,” Morrigan informed her son with a matching smirk as he turned to her with a betrayed look. “This might be a good opportunity to practice that heat glyph I taught you...for _both_ of your benefits.”


End file.
